Sweethearts
by twacorbies
Summary: After season 5 of Angel, Buffy is reunited with Spike. Originally a longer personal story challenge where Illyria & Fred were united in character. Rated M just in case.


_Sweethearts_  
To you with a heart so warm and tender  
who embraces me with words to remember.  
On this day I give you my all in all,  
praying we shall never fall.  
I give you warmth and kindness,  
please don't be deceived by my blindness.  
Because sweetheart, my love is here to stay,  
don't torture and throw it all away.  
Joyce Ann Simms

Buffy stood in between the French doors leading onto the balcony where Spike had retreated. He stood up a little straighter; hearing her behind him, but he didn't turn around.

"I don't remember anymore," she said plainly as the door latched behind her.

"Remember what?" Spike didn't turn but spoke quietly, and then took a drag in his cigarette.

"Why I was so afraid to see you in Rome." He snorted and took another drag.

"You seemed a bit more interested in banging the Immortal than afraid of seeing me." He looked down at her — she shrugged.

"I missed you."

"Well that's just great, luv," he paused to toss the cigarette out onto the gravel. It burned—a small red glow in the darkness—and died. "_I_ missed having a body." He turned and started down the steps.

"Wait," she asked, but he kept walking. "God, Spike, would you stop!" She had been walking towards him and now she pushed him down the last step. He stumbled, but regained his balance quickly.

"Hey, what's the big idea?!"

"What's the big idea? I'm trying to tell you I'm sorry. I'm sorry about you, I'm sorry about the medallion—amulet—thing. I'm sorry about the frickin Immortal, alright?"

"No." He remained calm, but she could see the fight in his eyes.

"No? Why are you doing this, why are you being so cold? It's been like this ever since I got back. I thought…" _you loved me_. She bit her lip to keep the words from spilling out, "Why are you so angry with me?" Her last words were those of a little girl and they strained his resolve.

"Do you know, when I see you," he sighed as she came nearer, "All my thoughts fall away—" He reached up to stroke her cheek, to cement the feel of her soft skin in his memory. To keep this moment.

"Except one—wanting you," he stared deep into her eyes as he said it. The way he always did. Never fearing to tell the truth, to lay himself open for hate or ridicule. God, she thought, _here_ was her Spike. He was like the embodiment of that old saying—_heart on your sleeve_. She opened her mouth to say something, to say anything, but he cut her off.

"I can't do it this time Buffy."

"Do what?" she looked confused, like she really didn't know what he was talking about.

"Play this game."

"Game? I'm not playing games," she was angry now, "I'm just trying to fix things. Apologize. But you don't want to hear it, right? You're too preoccupied with your self-righteous bull—"

"Hey, I am not being self-righteous! I came all the way to Rome because I thought you were in trouble. And you couldn't be bothered to give me a bloody hello. So don't come and talk to me about self-righteous. You hurt me."

"I know," she said quietly looking down at her feet.

"No Buffy, you don't know. I was a bloody ghost—or whatever. And when I was finally solid, when I was back to being a person—I had no place. Not only did I have nowhere to live—there was nowhere to bloody go. Because I knew," he laughed bitterly, "I knew you were happier with me dead."

"That's not true," her face was stricken.

"Isn't it?"

"I _never _wanted you dead."

"We both know that isn't true, pet." He started to walk away again. "Spike!" She grabbed his hand stopping him.

"Look, Buffy," he reclaimed his hand, "it's okay. You deserve to live your life in any way you choose. You don't owe me anything." They were quiet for a minute as he contemplated his exit, "I can't act this bit where we pretend you care. It hurts too much."

"But I do care," she felt tears sting her eyes. _Why couldn't he believe her_, she asked herself. But she knew the answer. She'd lied too many times and now she was the boy who cried I hate wolves; or something to that effect. She stared into his eyes, real fear growing.

"So that's it? That was my last chance? In Rome?" Her words were a knife and he wished to God he could turn this around. Wished he had the strength to be weak. He wanted to hold her, comfort her. Tell her they could start over. 'Happy New Year' and all that jazz. The desire to just take her in his arms and worry about consequences in the morning was overwhelming. He smiled a sad smile and took her hand, resting his thumb on her pulse.

"I'm sorry too," he said finally. As he released her hand, she let it fall. Neither of them spoke as he receded; becoming one with the shadows. She listened for his footsteps to die away before collapsing onto the ground. Silent tears streamed down her face.

_I didn't know_. **You knew later**. _I was afraid. I was shocked and afraid._ **Afraid? They asked you for help. They begged Giles for _you_. And when they couldn't get** **you they asked for Willow, but no one came. They were alone. _He_ was alone**_But as soon as I found out I came! I came with an army of Slayers!_**Too late. **

The words danced in her brain like a car jingle. _Too late, too late_. No matter how hard you try it's always too little, too late. Spike had been the one that was different from all the others. The one that didn't walk away. The one that was always there. Now she'd finally lost him the way she'd lost every other significant man in her life. Even Giles had left once.

"All baggage left unattended may be damaged or destroyed!" Buffy sighed as the intercom played the security message for the millionth time, since she'd gotten in line at the ticket counter. _Who in their right mind would leave their bags unattended at the airport in this decade? They'd have to be totally bonkers_. She looked at her watch. She'd only been in line for twenty minutes, but it seemed like an eternity. Maybe she was dead and hell was an airport. She pursed her lips at the comic, but troubling thought. Why Giles couldn't have gotten her an electronic ticket was beyond her. She looked enviously at the people rushing through the automatic ticket machines and readjusted the shoulder strap of her bag. _I hate this_, she thought. She couldn't stop looking behind her to the automatic doors. Hoping that he'd appear and she wouldn't have to go. It was too cliché though; even for him. Finally, she was at the counter giving her passport to the airline person. Then she was getting her boarding pass and following the line to the metal detectors. Finally, shoving her bag onto the conveyer belt, she knelt down to unlace her shoes.

Walking through without a hassle, she retrieved her things and sat down to put her boots back on. _I had to choose the boots with a million ties? _She wasn't looking forward to the sixteen hour flight. With all the globe trekking she'd done in the past year and a half, she'd really come to dislike flying. Getting places good. Flying bad. Actually it wasn't so much the flying part as it was the _ick_ factor. People smashed into small spaces and breathing the same air for hours on end. Not to mention public bathrooms. Eew. Double checking her ticket, she started her trek toward her gate number.

"Portals are a little tricksy, it's not like I can just _open a magic door to wherever you want to go_," Willow stressed the words impatiently.

"Oh, don't give me that bollocks. I saw you take down a troupe of giants without breaking a sweat."

"Well yeah—I did do that," Willow grinned reflecting.

"So then this should be easy. I'll do anything you want. Do you need herbs, blood? I can get lots of that—"

"Gah! I told you it's not that simple. Smooshing a bunch of giants is small potatoes. It's like…knocking over dominoes. Whereas, jeez…portals equal fractals, dimensional overlap, not to mention interference between matrices, and planetary alignment. There's also the whole 'ripping the fabric of reality' thing to worry about."

"Chri—I ask for one thing!" Spike threw up his hands in exasperation.

"Well, technically, there was that one time with the love spell, so…I think _this_ counts as a, uh, second _Thing_."

"Oh, bloody hell Red!" Spike sank into the chair behind him massaging his temples with his fingers. He moaned and muttered incoherently.

"If you're looking to open a temporal event, well, Pylea escapee here, so. I'm kinda the resident expert." Fred's hair had morphed back to golden brown, but her eyes still shone blue in the dim light of the study. "We have unique experience that may be—valuable," Illyria added.

Going through a portal was kind of like experiencing an entire ice age in a period of about thirty minutes. Dumped in a back alley, on the opposite side of London from the airport, Spike didn't take the time to contemplate the luck that it was night; and not _day_. Catching a taxi, he hightailed it to the airport.

Every few moments a shot of adrenaline coursed through his veins; if his heart had been human it would have been pumping madly. As it was, he had a vaguely nauseous feeling in the pit of his stomach. He gasped for breath that he didn't need; rubbing the back of his neck distractedly.

Her plane was delayed.

He'd gone to all this bloody work, with the help of Willow and Fred/Illyria. Now, after coming all this way, her plane was delayed.

Buffy sat fidgeting in her chair. Her neck hurt, her back hurt, and her hands and feet felt swollen from the altitude. Her ears were also in dire need of popping. They'd circled the airport more times than she cared to count. Smacking her head against her chair she squeezed her eyes shut and cursed the airline for their lack of quality television. I mean really, three episodes of _Everybody Loves Raymond_ as well as four or five of _Friends_ was _so_ not enough. And their movie list was crap. She hadn't wanted to see most of these when they were in the theater. _Monster in Law_? Gimme a break, like that was in anyway comic.

Finally, the Captain's voice came over the intercom. They were landing. Buffy sighed in relief along with everyone else on the plane. The older woman beside her spoke.

"Oh, thank God. I thought we were going to live up here!"

"Yeah, I know right?" Buffy smiled in annoyance at the whole affair.

"So, sweet girl like you being picked up by her sweetheart?"

"No, I left him behind."

"Hoping for some girl time?" the woman's eyes crinkled a bit. Buffy wasn't sure if she should play along or give herself up. It was the last twenty minutes of the flight and now the woman wanted to be friends? Granted, there had been some sleeping, but…and really what did this stranger care?

But they had already hit the runway and were stopping. The plane was suddenly a bustle with movement and Buffy felt like she was the only one who really didn't care if time stopped. The she wanted off the plane and into a hot shower. Oh, and then to sleep for the rest of her life.

Her bags hung on her, their weight the only thing that reminded her she was alive. The customs officer seemed to take pity on her and quickly stamped her ticket, barely asking her how long she would be staying. She, of course, had the correct response. But in truth she didn't know how long she would be here. Well, here…she _wasn't_ staying in London. She'd tried that the first time and it had been a terrible mistake. Too many people who sounded just like him. She was headed out. She had hotel reservations and all she needed was a cab.

Suddenly, she felt her heart give out. There he was, standing right in _front_ of her.

"Spike?" she could feel her shock and disorientation mounting. "What are you—" she dropped her things without even noticing.

"Oh bollocks," he said, "You do know how to drive a bloke completely mad." His arms came around her and he gave himself up to kiss her. His lips took hers the way a drowning man gasps for air.

Once they got to the hotel room, Spike's hands were all over her. Buffy stopped him.

"Um, I was thinking we could grab some dinner and then—uh—I think Giles said something about erm, a few odd death reports. So, yeah, maybe patrolling." Spike watched her as she rambled on. "Yeah, I d-don't really know what it's all about. I'm sure he can give us the details…" she trailed off after a second.

"Well I have a better idea," he moved closer to her and circled his hands around her waist and he bent his head; kissing her softly. She responded with a quick kiss and then pulled away.

"Um, actually I'm kinda starving—uh, you know, seventeen hour flight and all."

"Buffy, you're edgier than—than the edge of the cliff that used to Sunnydale," he said with a smirk, "What's going on?"

"What're you talking about?"

"Hey, don't play the innocent blond, it don't work on me. What is it, what's the matter?" he looked concerned.

"Nothing," she fiddled with the doorknob, not meeting his eyes.

"Look, if you're having second thoughts…"

"What?" she looked up visibly alarmed and came back towards him. "No, Spike—don't ever think that. Not ever," she sat on the edge of the bed, taking his hand so followed suit.

"Well, maybe be a bit more communicative, luv, what's a bloke sposed to think when you go all _hands off_," he caressed her shoulder.

"I don't know, it's just," she drew circles on his palm, "We haven't been together since…" she sighed.

"Oh," his eyes filled with horror, "I'm such a—God, of course you don't want to. Look, I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking…" he trailed off as he rubbed the back of his neck. Then it dawned on her what he was talking about.

"No, God! This isn't about that. Spike…look at me." She lay her hand on his cheek. "This isn't about that night," she let go of his face and reached back down for his hand, pressing it to her heart. "See, it's hammering away. But it's not scared of you. I'm terrified, but not _of_ you_. I love you_."

"Well, tell your boyfriend the trouble and he'll go kill it for you," he grinned.

"You're not my boyfriend," she giggled.

"Hey, I resent that," he said smirking, "how many other fellows you leading about?"

"But you're not, Spike, you're not my—_boyfriend_."

"Well, what am I then?" he looked hurt.

"Oh don't look so persecuted," she rested against him, laying her cheek against his chest, "You're my sweetheart."

"Oh God, Buffy," his voice was a thick whisper into her hair. "I don't deserve you."

"And I don't want something bad to happen, Spike. I slept with an ensouled vampire once; it didn't end well."

"Is that it?" he burst out laughing, "Why—" he snorted, trying to catch his breath, "Why didn't you bloody say so?" She sat up and away from him.

"Laugh it up," she glared fiercely.

"Hey now, I'm not Angel. I don't go all _psychopathic__serial-killer_ after, what is it? 'One night of bliss.'"

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah actually, shagged a bunch a women after I got back to being corporeal. Pretty sure I'm not evil."

"What? Ew! That's nice, thanks for that," she gave him a look of disgust.

"What, you think I saved myself for you? You were shagging the bloody Immortal!"

"Oh, be that way," she pouted.

"It's not so different, luv," he cuddled her back to him.

"I know," she was quiet for a while, "I wanted him to be you," she felt tears prick her eyes and held onto him more tightly.

"Oh sweetheart," he said purposefully using her phrase, "I'm so sorry."

"Tell me you love me?" she faced him again, here eyes bright.

"I love you," he said huskily.

"Tell me you want me?"

"I always want you," he pressed his forehead to hers.

His lips kissed down her throat as she reached under his shirt to press her hands against his back. He moved back to pull his shirt off. She unbuttoned her thin cotton sweater.

"Oh, shit," she said.

"What's the matter now?"

"These boots were a really bad idea," she slid off the bed and onto the floor beginning to unlace the one on her right foot. Spike laughed and joined her, grabbing her other foot.

"Why would you wear these on a plane?"

"Do you really want to rehash my clothing selection yesterday?" Spike pondered her words a minute.

"No, not really," he chuckled again as he yanked the shoe off her foot. In the time it had taken her to get off one shoe he had undressed and gotten off her other shoe as well. She looked up at him in mild annoyance.

"Vampire speed," he said.

"More like male horniness," she quipped. He replied by dragging her across the floor and onto him; kissing her sassy mouth. She straddled him as he stood and dumped her onto the bed.

"Oompf! Please, just throw me around," she said sarcastically.

"There's just—"he jumped on top of her, "no pleasing you."

She unfastened her jeans as he kissed her. Then, she realized that it hadn't really been so much about Spike losing his soul as it had been about…maybe losing hers. She wanted to tell him that, to prove to him that her love was as strong as his. She broke away and looked deep into his eyes.

"William?"

"Yeah, pet," his eyes were questioning.

"I love you; I'm _in love_ with you."

"I know."

"And—I'm here with_ you_. You're not a substitute for Angel or anyone else. No games," she ran her fingers through his curls.

"I know," he said simply. And she knew that it was true; he did know. Her heart melted as he kissed her again and she realized she needn't have spoken. But she was glad she did.

As she moved against him, Spike could understand Angel better. He could easily lose his soul for this woman. To this woman. The feeling of her flesh searing against him, her fingers tugged lightly at his hair. There was nothing beyond her. No heaven, no hell. Only taste of her as her mouth devoured his. His cool hands held her above him. There was no more world about them, but the searing heat of her against his coolness. There was no more sound but a subtle gasp and a whispered word that he could see meant more to her than breathing.

"You're my sunshine."

Her heart nearly broke as he said it; and knew, finally, what he meant. She laid her cheek against his.

"I never knew," she whispered into his ear, "what it felt like."

"What, what felt like?"

"All this. Loving you, being loved by you. Being happy." Spike laughed wickedly.

"I'm pouring out my heart to you and you laugh," she raised herself up on one elbow and glowered down at him.

"I'm sorry," he snickered, "I'm not laughing at you, you just made me think of something."

"What?"

"Nothing," he snickered again.

"What, I wanna know!"

"Bugger every sod who ever tried to get you. I won!"

"Oh please," she poked him in chest with a finger.

"Ouch! Stop that. I won, I am the winner, because," he paused for s second, "I won!"

"OK, sure, whatever. You're the winner," she giggled.

"I'm going to tell Angel I got myself an easy-bake oven," the last words out of Spike's mouth were almost a cackle.

"What?" Buffy looked comfused.

"To bake my cookies in!"

"Oh my God, did he tell you that?!" Spike laughed even harder. And suddenly, she was laughing too. She was laughing so hard she couldn't breathe; tears were streaming down her face. Then she lost her balance and started to fall towards the floor, but Spike caught her. This of course, made him laugh all the more.

"You're going to fall, you daft cow!"

"Who're you calling a cow? Get away!" she pushed him as he tried to grab her, but only succeeded in giving him a limb with which to better tackle her. Then, with a sly look, she tickled him with her free hand.

"Aaaaaaaah!" he shrieked like a girl, "None a that nonsense, you sneaky little cheater," he gripped both her wrists now.

"Hey, a girl's gotta defend herself from the big bad," she replied stroking her foot softly against the back of his calf.

"No see, eek! You have to give in and let me have my way with you. Literary tradition. Tickling has never been allowed," he grinned kissing down her stomach and then blowing on it to make her squeal.

"Oh, well, I tend not to follow the rules. It's part of my charm," she maneuvered herself out from under him and sat up against the bed's headboard. He scooted up to sit next to her.

"That it is, pet," he said more seriously circling his arm around her to pull her against him. "God, I love you," he rested his chin on her hair.

"I love you too," she said closing her eyes, "I love you too."


End file.
